Why I cried during Sochi Olympics opening ceremony

There is an iconic image from the 1980 Olympic Games, hosted by Moscow. It will be captured during the closing ceremony.

Attached to balloons like in Disney’s “Up!,” a giant but
unbearably cute bear (probably the most romantic mascot ever)
takes off from the Olympic stadium to his final journey. At one
particular moment, the camera captures a short-haired lady who is
waving the bear goodbye. Crying. And smiling.

I was not even born that time, but I saw a documentary featuring
this raw moment when I was eight or something. Sitting in the
dining room, eating my buckwheat porridge, I couldn’t hold back
my tears. And I couldn’t understand why. It was something new and
unexplainable – but it was striking me deep into the heart.

What could an eight-year-old boy really have understood? Surely.
Nothing. But maybe there are things that don’t need our
understanding, but our feeling? Things you don’t get to with your
brain or experience, but with your heart and emotion?

Before the Sochi Olympics even started, it was already filled
with hate and trolling. Sometimes it had the grounds. But mostly,
the source was simple hate – groundless, fierce and
disproportionate. The absolutely-everything-Sochi-related hate.
And it was at such a scale that it was a tough challenge trying
to escape it - be it online, TV or real-life – like sitting next
to a drunk stranger at a bar, who’d accuse Putin of stealing all
his money for the sake of “bloody” Games.

Oh, the hate. It is almost an inescapable thing in modern Russia.
And as the Olympic Rings have been approaching, the hate has been
growing. Like Sauron’s force at Mount Doom, feeling the imminence
of the Ring of Power.

And then – it is time. When I decide it’s over, I give up. You
win, hate. Cause haters gonna hate. Cause haters FTW, right?
Drowned and depressed, skeptical and grumbling – I still turn on
the broadcast. Come on, fail already, Sochi Olympics, so I can go
to sleep earlier!

But minute-by-minute, scene-by-scene – I started turning from a
depressed-skeptical-grumbling man to an excited-eight-year-old
kid with his eyes overly-wide open. The giant 40,000-capacity
stadium turned into something more than an Olympics opening
ceremony set. It turned into a scene… No, wait. ‘Scene’ is kind
of a boring word here, too mature.

Oh, yes! I got it! It turned into a giant pool! Yes, a giant
pool, where kids’ dreams are swimming with dolphins and whales –
like that giant whale made of people. Oh, wait – here’s another
one – it turned into an inflatable old city, which starts
levitating – and everyone is dancing to cheerful sounds of
spring! Yes, that’s a good one too! Oh, we need some boys stuff
here – yes! It turned into a giant city map, where real people
look like toy soldiers, and these soldiers march in a perfect
prancing formation!

Yes, the dreams! The fantasy! The boundless fantasy and the
immense dreams! What I saw on Friday night was no show. Not a
spectacle or performance either. It was something bigger.
Something huge. Something you can’t explain, but can totally
feel.

When legendary Russian athletes Vladislav Tretyak and Irina
Rodnina took their final race towards the cauldron, running
through the “human lines” of those 3,000 actors who
re-enacted this “fantastic-something,” I believe I was
not the only one crying. Both in their 60s, they were running
through this symbolic and impersonated corridor of Russian
history. But at that moment all I saw was a young and very
excited girl named Ira, shining in the light of happiness, and a
shy little boy named Slava who was really terrified that the
flame might go out.

This is it. My iconic image of the 2014 Olympics. And maybe some
day, while eating buckwheat porridge, my young kid will be
watching a Sochi documentary featuring this raw image and a tiny
tear will suddenly slide down his cheek. It would be something
new and unexplainable. But that would be awesome!

Kirill Karnovich-Valua

The statements, views and opinions expressed in this column are solely those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of RT.